Like Dancing
by Arcynic
Summary: In which a late night kitchen raid, for James, turns into a grand ball—in the middle of the hallway—with Lily. [oneshot]


"Potter, what _are_ you doing skulking around at _this_ time of night?"

James inwardly winced, recognizing the irritated tone of _her_ voice, and sighed. As much as he _did_ worship the very ground Lily Evans walked upon, he didn't quite feel like getting into a row so late at night, especially when all he did want was a little food to fill his poor aching stomach. He had just been on the verge of sleep when the sudden urge for a treacle tart and some butterbeer had assaulted him. Alas, James had previously lent his invisibility cloak to Sirius, but he thought he could manage to sneak away from the Head dorms with just the Marauder's Map. He thought wrong. In fact, he _always _seemed to think wrongly whenever it had even the slightest bit to do with Lily.

Silently, James bid a fond farewell to his impromptu trip to the kitchens. Turning, he pasted a big grin on his face as he hid the map behind his back, "Why Evans, I daresay I should ask _you_ the same question!"

She rolled her eyes, "_I_ was _trying_ to get some studying done when I heard you stumbling about, _hissing_ and _cursing_, in the other room."

James coughed, running his free hand through his messy black hair. He had left the lights off in the lounge that joined their rooms because he saw the lights on in hers, lest she catch him trying to sneak out—which she did anyway. He had then stumbled over an ottoman, stubbed his toe on the leg of a table and tripped over a—something, he couldn't see very well in the dark—or the light even. Although this probably _could_ have been avoided if his thoughts hadn't idly wandered over to what Lily was wearing at the moment. At least he knew _now_, though flannel wasn't exactly black negligee, it was still incredibly sexy on her, with her hair all mussed and—

"Stop that."

He paused, wide eyed and guilty, "P-Pardon? Stop what?"

"Stop running your hand through your hair, no one's around to see you making an arse of yourself."

"_You_ always seem to be," he muttered gloomily under his breath.

"_Pardon_?" She asked sharply.

"I _said_ you look lovely tonight." She stared at him in disbelief and he frowned slightly. He was beginning to rethink his theory that that line would work on her _one_ day.

"Potter, just get back to bed so that I can do more studying and less worrying about what havoc the Head Boy can and _will_ cause in the middle of the night." When she saw him smirk, she added, wearily, "And not _my_ bed, _your_ bed."

"Aw Evans, you wound me with your lack of faith." He crooned pitifully.

"If _that _were true, you'd be in a _casket_ by now," she muttered darkly under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"_Bed_, Potter, I really have to get back to studying and I won't be able to concentrate with you running amuck all over Hogwarts."

"Study, study, study, don't you ever do anything else, Evans?"

"Like what?" She asked, taking a step closer and crossing her arms over her chest. He took a step backwards, hand still gripping the map behind his back, as he wisely forced his eyes up to her face.

"Something—" he made to tousle his hair again but refrained just in time, "I don't know…something _spontaneous_?"

She snorted, "Of course I would _sometimes_, but tripping over furniture in a dark room and wandering the halls in the middle of—oh for Merlin's _sake_, Potter, I can _see _that you're trying to hide something behind your back."

"What are you going on about?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he mentally scolded himself for being so obvious.

"Oh can it and just let me see what it is." She huffed, walking over to reach behind him. His mind was at war, part of him wanting to just let her see it if it meant having her at such close proximity and the other part telling him that his friends wouldn't be too pleased if she had found out about this map—since he hadn't been able to mutter the counter phrase to clear it up. He had to think quickly if he didn't want a certain black dog to bite him in the arse—literally.

"Dance with me, Evans." He whispered suddenly, leaning in so that they were face to face. She looked momentarily stunned and he took the chance to stuff the map into his back pocket and offer his other hand to her.

"_What_?" She asked incredulously, bright green eyes peering at him oddly.

"Dance with me."

"You're insane, Potter, we're in the middle of the hallway."

"A hallway—" James paused, "or a great ballroom with opulent lights and décor?"

"A _hallway_," Lily snapped impatiently, "and if you think this will distract me, Potter—"

"Just one dance, Lily," he replied quickly, neither one of them noticing his slip, "one dance and I _swear_ I'll go to sleep."

"But a _dance_?" She returned skeptically, "Look at what you're wearing—look at what _I'm_ wearing!" She pointed to her wrinkly old flannel pajamas.

"I see nothing but the most handsomely suave dressrobes on me and the most _gorgeous _emeraldgreen dressrobes on you."

"I _hate_ the color green."

"Then maroon?"

She stifled a smile and he knew he was wearing her down. He offered her his hand again, "Well?"

She tentatively reached out her hand before shaking her head and curling it before her chest, "I-It's silly. There's no music."

"So we'll _make _some." He declared, taking her hand and pulling her close as he started to hum softly.

"Po—"

"Shh," he said softly, gently pushing her head against his shoulder as they swayed to the music created by him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, wanting so desperately to memorize every second of this moment—the feeling of _finally_ having her in his arms after so many years of wishing—_without_ her shrill and angry voice in his ear. And they continued to dance into the night, with him starting a new song even after the first had ended.

"You really do look lovely, tonight." He said, opening his hazel eyes to look at her.

"Potter…"

"I'm serious," James replied lowly, curling her red locks between his fingers, "I'm _always_ serious."

She didn't reply, but he felt her grip around his neck tighten just a smidge. He inwardly grinned in triumph. His theory _was_ correct, so he could tell Moony to piss off later.

"Hey, Evans…?" He mumbled after another few songs.

"Mm?" she replied vaguely, eyes half closed as she looked up at him.

"I—" he leaned in closer so that he could feel her breath tickling his nose.

Suddenly a bell chimed and the two blinked, startled, both looking to the portrait of Big Ben, whose face read midnight. She started to chuckle and he soon joined her, running his hand nervously through his hair again, without thought.

"I think your spell has worn off." She whispered dangerously close to his lips, before sidling out of his slackened grip. He nodded dumbly as she stood before him, already feeling incomplete from the loss of her body next to his.

"Good night then," she paused, pursing her lips, "James."

His eyes widened as she hastily turned and disappeared into the darkness of the corridors, cheeks tinged pink. All former thoughts of treacle tarts and butterbeer and midnight cravings were instantly forgotten as James stared after her.

He suddenly felt like dancing.

-

A/N: An entry to the ball challenge on 7thyeartrain, of sorts…except that there's no _real_ ball in here, just the tiniest of allusions—so then perhaps it's just a random oneshot.

Funnily enough, the _Ball_ chapter to Bet is going nowhere as I am now in the "don't want to touch the fic ever again" stage that I was in during the last few chapters of said fic. But I will try, _seriously_ I will. And expect some other oneshots, I believe. But until then, come review this and make me happy?


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